Opening the Notebook

Over the weekend I accomplished a crucial writing task. It wasn’t ground-shaking, yet it was everything.

Yesterday was one of those relaxed harvest-time Sundays, the kind that lulls me into feeling like I’ll live forever. I hit the farmer’s market and, because dogs aren’t allowed, donated a couple of bucks to a homeless man’s cause in exchange for his dogsitting skills. His “Hooters” t-shirt cracked me up.

I bought kale in hopes that I’d figure out how to season it. I also didn’t know how to prepare fresh tuna, but I purchased a fish steak and asked for an easy cooking tip from the fishmonger (is that word allowed these days?): Marinate for many hours in one part olive oil, two parts soy sauce, and fresh lime juice to taste; then bake.

I also bought my zukes and my various berries. Nothing much on my mind, but I felt my new Record notebook waiting for me in the car.

Then, hungry, I sat around an outdoor cafe with a nonfat latte and a veggie scramble. (I appear to be a healthy eater, don’t I? Don’t be fooled.)

I loitered at this outdoor cafe with dog sunbathing at my feet for longer than usual because I’d brought my new Record notebook with me. I opened that notebook and here is what I wrote:

1. I entitled the notebook “Novel #5 Development Notebook”.

2. I dated the first pristine page and announced to myself, to my inner creative, to the universe — take your pick — my intentions to develop a new novel idea.

3. I noted my initial idea for this new novel, which isn’t an idea so much as a vague sense of direction and one cool, conflict-inciting fact about my protagonist.

4. I listed first steps, which are about reading and research and general exploring for now.

That’s it. Like I said, this task was everything. I officially opened up my brain to the new story idea. I hope it doesn’t keep me waiting!

P.S. The tuna turned out yummy. The kale remains mysterious — any suggestions out there?